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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092324">angels and other biblical nonsense</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bonding, I hate the tags portion cause idk what to tag it as, M/M, theyre like angels but not really angels, winged au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:27:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s no sense in staying in this aviary when I can help. And I want to.”<br/>Nixon knew he should try to convince the angel otherwise, that the angel didn’t know what he was talking about. But again, he didn’t know how much this angel knew about the outside world, had no idea how long this angel had been locked up in here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>angels and other biblical nonsense</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>please look at the end of the fic for more information on this story.</p><p>follow me on tumblr @lieutenantwinters<br/>follow my creative writing tumblr @demukarr<br/>follow my creative writing insta @xannystag</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The hallway leading to the aviary was exceedingly hot, and Nixon had to tug at his collar as he followed Sobel and Strayer inside. Welsh looked uncomfortable as well, if the sheen along his forehead was any indication. Behind them followed the NCOs, as well as the medics. The MPs eyed Strayer’s credentials, before they opened the door, and the heat rushed out, blasting them in the face. Nixon winced at the heat, and licked his lips, but forced himself to head in.</p><p>            Upon stepping foot onto the moss-covered stones, there was the loud sound of the flapping of wings and the trees rustled as the angels took flight, disappearing further into the aviary. About the only person that didn’t flinch at the sudden movement was Strayer, who promptly turned to Sobel and motioned to him. Nixon and the others stood at ease in front of Sobel, who was clearly uneasy to put his back to the angels in the aviary. Nixon’s eyes wandered to the tree tops as Sobel began to speak, and Nixon droned him out. It was all information he had heard before; angels, while not very common, were common ‘toys’ and a sign of wealth among the higher class.</p><p>            While not<em> actually</em> Biblical angels, the name had stuck and no one bothered to change it. They were, strictly speaking, humans with wings. However, they weren’t considered to be intelligent, and were considered no more intelligent than dogs. Research on the creatures were lacking when it came to that—no one cared about anything besides the properties that came from them. Their feathers, when ground up and mixed with certain herbs, made a powerful aphrodisiac. Feathers were also gathered and used in certain medicine, like aspirin. Their blood was stronger than coffee, and there was some sort of oil that they secreted that eased pain.</p><p>            Very few angels were left in the wild, and Nixon was a little surprised to see that the army had an aviary of them. Of course, their ability to understand them and follow orders, as well as fly to absurd altitudes, could make them very good assets to the US Army, especially the Airborne.</p><p>            But it still left the question; why were the Officers and NCOs of Easy Company here?</p><p>            Sobel ceased talking, as Strayer stepped forward and motioned for him to stop. The aviary had grown quiet, and Nixon couldn’t hear any movement, though he felt like he was being watched.</p><p>            “A new discovery has been made in the way of angels,” Strayer said, drawing Nixon’s attention. “Normally, skin to skin contact between a human and angel elicits nothing more than a warm, buzzing feeling. But when your hand is coated with <em>this</em>—” Strayer held up a glass jar of clear liquid, “It forms this . . . connection. A bond between you and the angel. Commands are easier to give, and while you can’t verbally communicate, you can feel emotions over the bond.”</p><p>            Nixon tilted his head. He had heard rumors of this before he left home, but he had thought it had just been that. There was tension in the air, and Nixon knew that this was the closest some of these men had ever been to angels in their life—now this was being presented in front of them.</p><p>            Without even blinking an eye, Strayer continued, “Angels can fly to heights not even our planes can get to. They are beneficial for intelligence gathering, and will be able to bring in supplies when we are unable to bring in a drop. The medical benefits of having an angel attached to the hip to medics will be astronomical. It’s why we’ve brought you here.” Strayer motioned to Sobel, who hurriedly pulled out smaller jars, that were filled with the clear liquid and handed to each man. “Before we depart to England, you will all bond with an angel. Easy Company is our test run with this, and if we find the benefits significant, the rest of the Airborne will follow suit.” Strayer folded his hands behind his back as Sobel joined him. “There is no . . . strict procedure in how you approach this. Do whatever you need to gain their trust.” Strayer glanced at his watch, then back up. “You have the next three days to do so. There will be no punishment if a couple of you fail to do so. However, if more than half fail, we will end up forcing it. We wouldn’t like to do so, but we want this project off the ground.” Then, Strayer motioned for them to move.</p><p>            Nixon found himself rooted in place, even while NCOs like Guarnere seemed eager to get his hands on an angel. Welsh glanced at him and nudged him; Nixon followed without much thought. He could hear movement overhead, and watched as a short, slim angel with a thick head of hair quickly darted into the trees to get away from Guarnere. The short angel was a pretty little thing with brown wings that shone an iridescent green in the light, and looked slightly panicked at Guarnere’s attempts. Lipton stood nearby, looking a little displeased at Guarnere’s attempts at snagging himself an angel.</p><p>            “How the hell we suppose to earn an angel’s trust?” Welsh asked, laughing as Ranney was practically body slammed by a black-winged, angry-faced angel when Ranney got too close to a skinny ginger one. Angels were taking flight one after another; a few peered down at them from the trees.</p><p>            Nixon watched as Lipton helped Ranney to his feet, and could tell the man got his clock rung. “I would have to say that they’re not helping the situation.”</p><p>            Welsh flinched. “Really don’t want to force ourselves on any of ‘em. I get they aren’t . . . <em>intelligent</em> or whatever, but they’re being dragged into something that they don’t know about.” They came to a stop beneath an outcropping, where a large oak tree was rooted next to a small pond. Above them, the tree branches rustled, and Nixon was sure that one of the angels was watching them.</p><p>            “We don’t have a choice, it seems,” Nixon replied. “Even if they were intelligent, I do believe we’d still be here.” He motioned outwards towards the aviary.</p><p>            Welsh snorted. “Well. I can’t disagree with you on that. Even so, this isn’t their war. And what are they gonna die for?” Welsh crossed his arms and shook his head. “Something they probably don’t even really understand.”</p><p>            Nixon scoffed a bit, taking out a cigarette and carefully lighting it. They were obscured from view from the rest of the NCOs, who were loudly chattering on how they were going to get an angel out of the trees. He could practically <em>feel</em> both Roe’s and Lipton’s disappointment from here. “You should probably get back to the boys, before they do something foolish,” Nixon suggested, nudging Welsh with his elbow.</p><p>            Welsh glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “Like what, bond with an angel?” he gave him a sly grin, before he tipped his nonexistent hat to Lewis, and dipped beneath some tree branches, disappearing from Nixon’s sight.</p><p>            Nixon snorted, and turned, puffing lightly on his cigarette; all while attempting to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. He wasn’t so sure how or why he had attracted this angel’s attention, but he knew he was there.</p><p>            He took another long drag, listening to the cigarette sizzle as the embers chased up the paper. Slowly, Nixon tilted his head back, his eyes sliding closed, as he let out the steady stream of smoke.</p><p>            He sat there for a few moments, with his head lazily tipped back, listening to tree branches rub together, creaking under the weight of something heavy. Slowly, he cracked open his left eye, and found himself surprised at the pale expanse of muscled skin that was a few feet away from him.</p><p>            Eyes snapping open, Nixon’s head whipped around, the cigarette hanging loosely between his index and middle finger, jaw hanging a little open as he took in the sight of the man before him.</p><p>            None of the angels had clothing, allowing Nixon to see every blemish on this angel’s skin. The angel was well-toned, the powerful wings for once matching a powerful body. His hair would have shown like brilliant embers in the right light, but still looked remarkable under the darkened glass. His lips were shaped much like a Cupid’s bow, and they were downright <em>sinful</em>. The angel’s eyes were so <em>impossibly</em> blue, Nixon for a moment thought he was dreaming. But they were such a <em>magnificent </em>blue compared to the dim shade of his hair, Nixon knew it wasn’t due to the light.</p><p>            And the cock that hung between his legs—</p><p>            A shiver ran up his spine.</p><p>            Nevertheless, while Nixon stared at the angel with a great deal of shock, the angel continued to prove his tenacity as he slowly lowered himself flat onto his feet, toes flexing against the warm stone. His wings hung loosely at his sides, and he gave them a good flap. They were the same shimmery red as his hair, and he struck a marvelous figure. Nixon was hit with a feeling of deep shame—this creature was absolutely gorgeous, and yet was going to be used by the US military for an act of war. It shouldn’t be here, stuck in this aviary.</p><p>            Forgotten, the cigarette burned quickly to a nub in his hand, and burned the skin between his fingers. Nixon only winced, and in that brief moment where his eyes and attention was directed elsewhere, the angel stepped towards him, his eyes curious.</p><p>            Nixon looked to the angel, curiosity itching at him, when the angel tensed. “Nix, you gotta come—Whoa!” before Welsh could even finish his <em>whoa</em>, the angel had already crouched and leapt into the air, taking flight and disappearing into the foliage of a nearby tree. Nixon, still stunned by the angel’s approach, did nothing more than just stare at where it had disappeared. Welsh whipped around, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. “What the <em>fuck</em> was that?!”</p><p>            “I—”</p><p>            Welsh then held up his hands. “Actually, I’ve decided I really <em>don’t</em> wanna fucking know. Whatever that was, I’m sorry I interrupted it,” he said, and began to back out the way he came, only pausing briefly to say, “Oh, Roe scored an angel, by the way. In case you wanted to come see it, or deal with . . .” he waved a hand, “Whatever the fuck that was, Snow White.”</p><p>            Snorting, it took a moment for the Roe comment to sink in. Then, Nixon’s eyes went wide, and he said, “You’re joking.”</p><p>            Welsh then grinned, and disappeared beneath the overhang. Nixon rose to his feet, briefly looking to where the red headed angel had disappeared to, before he followed Welsh’s path.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            Roe, in fact, hadn’t<em> really</em> scored an angel. Well, he had one following him <em>around</em> like he did, but he had never used the liquid on the angel that Guarnere had jokingly named <em>Babe</em>. Wherever Roe was, the skinny red-headed angel would follow. He flew away from about anyone else, but with Roe, he was always within touching distance. He seemed rather infatuated with him, despite the fact that the angry-faced, black haired angel was always watching them from the trees with a disapproving look.</p><p>            About the only person who had actually managed to score an angel was Guarnere, surprisingly. On the second day, he stopped chasing them, and the brown haired one with the iridescent wings approached him. Despite the easy manner in which the angel had approached Guarnere, the angel didn’t make it easy on him. Guarnere practically had to chase the angel all evening in order to seal the bond, but in the end, the angel just looked amused at it, while Guarnere got to boast to everyone that he was the <em>first</em> one with an angel bond. Some of the NCOs had managed to get close to some of them, where you could tell that they would eventually gain their trust enough, but not nearly enough.</p><p>            Welsh, Lipton, and Roe all stressed about what would happen if they didn’t make the halfway mark, and if they forced the bonds. None of them liked the way it sounded, and felt it wasn’t worth it.</p><p>            Nixon had to agree, but there was nothing he could do.</p><p>            . . . and besides, he was distracted by the redheaded angel that had approached him.</p><p>            Clearly the angel had some sort of intention behind it. He never believed the lies that were fed to them as kids; that angels were unintelligent and not like humans. When that angel had looked into his eyes, he could feel the curiosity of someone who had just as many mental faculties as he did.</p><p>            Which led him to lying awake at night, wondering what that angel had wanted with him.</p><p>            It was the final day that they were being given to bond with an angel on their own. Some of the NCOs had learned from their previous failures, and were taking different approaches. Nixon promptly left them to their own devices, and headed to the small alcove where he and the redheaded angel had previously met.</p><p>            Upon ducking through the long hanging branches, Nixon took in his surroundings. Sighing when he realized he was alone, he headed towards the small pond and sat on a rock, where he pulled out a cigarette and lighted it, glowering at the water.</p><p>            Surely the angel wouldn’t have approached him without needing something? He had watched the NCOs struggle to even get an angel to be comfortable around them, and most wouldn’t dare drop down from the tree tops without significant prodding. But that one had approached Nixon with a confidence that, quite frankly, had scared him, and was so close to Nixon that he could have touched him.</p><p>            Taking a long drag, Nixon held it in for a moment before he exhaled through his nose. Scratching at the space between his brows, he tried to tell himself that there was some valid reason that it had happened. If the angel had wanted to attack him, surely it wouldn’t have approached so slowly. The angry-faced dark haired angel that had attacked anyone who came close wasted no time in attacking. He attacked brutally and swiftly, wasting no time in incapacitating his target before he would quickly fly away.</p><p>            There had to be something—</p><p>            “You came back.”</p><p>            Freezing, Nixon stared directly ahead of him for a few moments, his breath caught in his throat. Ash from the burning tip of his cigarette landed on his uniform, and he prayed that he wasn’t delusional. The voice was unfamiliar, but didn’t set his teeth on edge. It was . . . kind, unassuming, and when Nixon slowly turned his head towards the speaker, his heart leapt into his throat.</p><p>            The angel with the brightest blue eyes Nixon had ever seen was standing next to him, his eyes tracing over Nixon’s features, before he slowly tilted his head. “Are you all right?”</p><p>            That broke him out of his stupor. “You spoke.” Nixon felt the strong urge to slap himself, or pinch his thigh. Despite the doubts he had placed on the researchers who studied angels, he had never quite thought that he would get actual proof that they were<em> wrong</em>.</p><p>            An amused smile danced across his face. “Would you rather I trilled at you? Although, I don’t think you’d understand it much.”</p><p>            That broke Nixon out of the weird trance he was in, and he found himself rolling his shoulders, trying to think of a witty comeback. The angel’s gaze softened, and he seemed to finally take pity on Nixon. “I understand that it’s a shock. I must apologize—”</p><p>            Nixon rose, and shook his head. “Don’t apologize.” He looked at the angel, and realized that he was only a little bit shorter than him. The angel smiled awkwardly at him. “I should probably apologize that you’re stuck here.”</p><p>            The angel tilted his head. “Why apologize when you can get me out?” Nixon’s face flushed. Oh, Lord, of course the angels would talk to one another. Nixon shook his head, and the angel spoke before Nixon could gather his thoughts, “I know what’s going on in the outside world. And—” The angel bit his lip. “I want to help.”</p><p>            Well. Nixon hadn’t expected to hear that at all. “You really shouldn’t. This war doesn’t involve you, you shouldn’t—”</p><p>            “But I want too,” the angel replied, firmly. “If there’s any way I can help, I should—” His jaw clamped shut. “There’s no sense in staying in this aviary when I can help. And I want to.”</p><p>            Nixon knew he should try to convince the angel otherwise, that the angel didn’t know what he was talking about. But again, he didn’t know how much this angel knew about the outside world, had no idea how long this angel had been locked up in here.</p><p>            Pursing his lips, he glanced up at the angel, who had a hard, determined look on his face still. “Look . . . I really don’t think you know—”</p><p>            The angel’s eyes hardened. “You’re going to put my intelligence into question, too?” That silenced Nixon for a long while, and the angel continued, “I know what I want. So . . . please. Let me help.”</p><p>            The angel’s resolve was one Nixon couldn’t ignore. So many American men wanted to fight, and the little that couldn’t—well. He heard the stories, but hadn’t seen it happen for himself. Nixon’s eyes drifted away. “Well . . . if you insist.”</p><p>            The angel’s wings fluttered with excitement, and his eyes were gleaming when Nixon looked back up at him. “Thank you,” the angel said.</p><p>            Nixon rubbed at the back of his throat. “Don’t thank me before we get into war,” Nixon said, “You may regret this.”</p><p>            “I won’t.” The angel said firmly, before his eyes widened and his wings fluttered again. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself.” He stretched out a hand. “Richard Winters, but people call me Dick.”</p><p>            Lewis arched an eyebrow. Not sure what he was expecting for a name, and certainly not one so . . . normal. “Lewis Nixon.” The angel’s—<em>Dick’s</em>—hand was warm, and the skin surprisingly soft. Briefly, he worried that the angel truly didn’t understand what war was like, but it was too late now to change it.</p><p>            Dick smiled at him, wings fluttering a bit. “I’m glad you came into the aviary that day, Nix.”</p><p>            Face flushing, he turned his gaze away. “Not like I had much of a choice.”</p><p>            Dick frowned at him, and opened his mouth, before he clamped it shut again. His gaze dipped, and his wings lowered a bit, before he raised his gaze. “Well. Either way, I won’t mind being bonded to you.”</p><p>            Anxiety peaking, Nixon started, “We don’t have to do that—”</p><p>            “It’ll be beneficial to us both,” Dick chirped. “I can hear your thoughts and you can hear mine. It’ll be better that way.”</p><p>            Pursing his lips into a thin line, Nixon pulled out the jar. “As far as I know, this is unbreakable, unless one of us dies.”</p><p>            Dick tilted his head, and then he shrugged. “I don’t mind it. When we mate, we mate for life. It’s much like that, in a way.” Then, he met Nixon’s gaze, and gave him an awkward smile. “I suppose it must be awkward for you, though. Since you humans don’t experience stuff the same way we do.”</p><p>            While Dick spoke, Nixon coated his hand with a thin layer of the liquid, his teeth running over his bottom lip. “I guess. But if you insist . . .” A white hot, fuzzy feeling exploded behind Nixon’s eyes as he placed his hand on Dick’s shoulder. It zipped down his spine and seemed to wrap itself around his heart, his mouth being filled with the taste of peaches and chocolate. It was hot and heavy on his tongue, almost choking him—</p><p>            He landed on his ass and hissed in pain, fisting a hand into the dirt. He managed to pry his eyes open long enough to look to Dick, and watched as a bright blue handprint appeared on his skin, before slowly disappearing beneath the milky pallor. Dick’s wings had spread wide and arched, the tips of the feathers trembling at the strain. The pain grew too much for Nixon, and he closed his eyes, bringing a palm up to rub at his sockets.</p><p>            “Are you all right?” Dick asked, kneeling in front of him. Nixon blinked, unsure when the angel had closed the distance between them.</p><p>            “I’m fine,” Nixon replied, heaving himself to his feet. Dick stepped back, eyes following him as he slowly dusted himself off. Nixon blinked, and gritted his teeth as he swallowed, trying to get that awful hot taste out of his mouth. He tried to think of this was what it was like for Guarnere, if he had said anything about it being awful like that.</p><p>            Dick shifted on his feet next to them. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. That seemed awful.”</p><p>            “I’ll get over it,” Nixon reassured, waving a hand. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. He turned and frowned at the angel. “How come you decided to speak to me, huh? Why has no other angel done that before?”</p><p>            Dick blinked. “If we did, what good would it do?”</p><p>            “People would see you as another human being, that’s for one—”</p><p>            “And they wouldn’t conduct experiments on us anymore?” Dick tilted his head. “I don’t see that happening.”</p><p>            <em>People would want you to be let go, even more so than they do now</em>, Nixon thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. What was he to know? Perhaps an angel had spoken, had pleaded for the scientists to stop, and they just disregarded it?</p><p>            Nixon glanced at Dick. “How likely is it that the other angels will speak?”</p><p>            Dick pursed his lips. “Not likely. I just—” he took a deep breath. “I overheard you and Welsh speaking. And I knew there would be no other way to do this without approaching you. You’re kind of clueless.”</p><p>            Frowning, he let out a snort as he went to light another cigarette. “What’re you talking about?”</p><p>            Dick’s face flushed, and he turned away. It was interesting, watching the angel’s body language; how the wings subconsciously curled closer to the body, wrapping around the front. “I . . . well. I was watching you yesterday, and you didn’t seem to notice me.”</p><p>            Nixon spluttered, the cigarette tumbling from his lips and ended up crushed against his body as he attempted to catch it. Dick blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—is that weird?”</p><p>            “Kind of.” Nixon choked, staring down at his ruined cig. “Definitely . . . odd. You had been so brazen in your first attempt; I was sure you would have acted the same way the second time.”</p><p>            “Sorry.”</p><p>            “It’s okay.”</p><p>            They fell into a comfortable silence, Dick studying Nixon, while Nix tried to look anywhere but at the naked man in front of him. Thankfully, he heard movement coming towards them, and he looked up as Welsh dipped into the alcove. Welsh jumped back at seeing Dick, but when the angel didn’t move, Welsh quickly relaxed. “Bagged one, huh?”</p><p>            Nixon shrugged. “I guess.”</p><p>            “Well, glad you did. Means I don’t have to.”</p><p>            Arching an eyebrow, Nixon asked, “We’re over half?”</p><p>            “Well over it,” Welsh said, “But if you failed, they’d force one of us to, since they’re pretty adamant officers’ bond with one.” Welsh glanced at Dick, eyes running over him, before he turned back to Nixon with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll never <em>guess</em> who Lip bonded with.”</p><p>            Well, considering there was only one angel that seemed to be on everyone’s mind . . . “The angry one? How the hell did he manage that?”</p><p>            Welsh shrugged. “Not sure. But time will be up soon,” he said, nodding to Nixon before he ducked out, leaving him alone with the angel again.</p><p>            Nixon scuffed his shoe against the ground, and ran a hand through his hair. Dick turned, tilting his head. “The angry one?” Dick asked, sounding amused.</p><p>            Nixon glanced at him. “Yeah. The dark haired one that always looks pissed. Attacked anyone who came close to any angel?”</p><p>            “Oh. You mean Ron.” There was a pause. “Interesting.”</p><p>            Nixon raised an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. But any thought of pursuing it disappeared when a slow feeling of <em>curiosity</em> entered his mind, and it definitely wasn’t his own. He jerked, and looked at Dick, who smiled at him. “What the—”</p><p>            “It’s the bond,” Dick said, “It’s forming. It’ll . . . it’ll take a couple of days before it reaches completion.”</p><p>            Mouth dry, Nixon tried to comprehend what it meant. He knew he would be able to feel and hear Dick’s thoughts, would be able to talk to him nonverbally. But he . . . <em>shit</em>. Dick would be able to hear everything and <em>anything</em> he was thinking. There had to be some way to control it, or stop the flow—</p><p>            A soft hand gently gripped his, jerking him out of his thoughts. Dick was looking at him with those wide, honest, open eyes. “You should get going.”</p><p>            He was right. “I’ll see you in England.”</p><p>            A gentle smile. “See you in England.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            “What do you think they did with the angels?”</p><p>            “What’s it matter to you, Muck?”</p><p>            “C’mon, Martin, they look just like humans besides them big ol’ wings,” Randleman drawled, and Nixon glanced over his shoulder just to see Randleman clasp a big hand down on his shoulder.</p><p>            Martin shrugged it off, grumbling. “Doesn’t matter what they did to ‘em. They’re either on their way here, or they’re here somewhere.” Martin scratched at the side of his head. “And this fucker always seems to be pissed off.”</p><p>            “A beautiful fit if I’ve ever seen one!”</p><p>            “Shut the <em>hell</em> up Guarnere.”</p><p>            “Not my fault nothin’ seems to disturb my angel,” Guarnere retorted with a shrug.</p><p>            Annoyed, Nixon turned and downed his drink, nearly choking on it when he felt <em>concern</em> drift over the bond. Dick had been right; the bond was now firmly solidified two weeks later; despite the fact they hadn’t seen each other. He wasn’t so sure how well he hid his own thoughts, and he’d have to ask Dick about it later. He didn’t want to flood the poor guy’s head with his own thoughts daily.</p><p>            He sent <em>sorry</em> back, hoping it came across right. Slowly, the presence in his mind soothed, and it was clear he was understood.</p><p>            Rubbing at his forehead, he let out a sigh and rubbed his thumb along the condensation along the edge of his glass. A sense of loneliness and longing swept over him, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He stomped down the emotions before they could get to Dick, not wanting to worry the man. Sure, he had Welsh and the others, but that brief conversation with Dick had felt . . . different.</p><p>            And he missed it.</p><p>            “Lieutenant Nixon.”</p><p>            Raising his gaze, Nixon found Lip standing in front of him, saluting momentarily before his hands went behind his back. Nixon waved a hand at him, and Lip’s arms dropped to his side. “Enough with that, Lip.”</p><p>            “Sorry, sir—” Lip started, but cut himself off when the ‘sir’ slipped out. He cleared his throat, and said, “I’d like to speak to you.” When Nixon motioned to the seat in front of him, Lipton’s eyes danced around the room. “In private, sir. If that’s possible.”</p><p>            <em>Something the matter?</em> came a clear and concise thought from Dick, jerking Nixon back to reality, and realized that he had been letting the air hang awkwardly between him and Lip without giving him a response.</p><p>            <em>No, sorry for worrying you</em>, he thought back. It seemed that Dick wasn’t completely convinced by it, but let it lie. “Of course,” Nixon finally replied, and he watched as Lip’s shoulders relaxed. “Is there someplace you had it in mind?”</p><p>            “I—Well. I have a room rented for the night,” Lip said, awkwardly, “It’s not too far from here, a five-minute walk or so.”</p><p>            As Nixon followed him out onto the street, he tried to think about what they could possibly need to talk about. Training with the angels would resume in a couple of days, and while it could totally be about that, something told him it wasn’t. Lip was the type to worry about the men, and sure he was probably stressed about how the hell he would deal with his new, angry-faced winged pal. Or it could be about something else entirely.</p><p>            The door creaked open, and Lip held it for him. They entered, nodding to the woman behind the desk, before they headed upstairs, where they would hopefully remain undisturbed.</p><p>            Lip closed the door behind him, and remained upright, pacing a bit as Nixon settled down on one of the old beds. It creaked beneath his weight, and Nixon groaned in relief, before he laid back on the bed. <em>Curiosity</em> flitted into his mind again, and Nixon gently pushed back at it with an image of a soft bed. <em>Amusement</em> followed suit, and Nixon let out a small snort, covering his eyes with his forearm.</p><p>            Silence filled the room, and Nixon peaked out from underneath his arm to look at Lip, who was still pacing and looked troubled. Sighing deeply, Nixon forced himself into an upright position and planted his boots on the floor. “Sit down, Lip. You’re making me dizzy.”</p><p>            Lip’s hands snapped down to his sides, and he looked apologetically at Nixon. “Sorry.” Nixon waved a hand as Lip sat down on the opposite bed, and he gave the sergeant some time to gather his thoughts.</p><p>            “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”</p><p>            Lip clasped his hands over his knees, his back ramrod straight. Slowly, his teeth dragged over his bottom lip. Then, he looked up. “Can you hear him? Your angel, I mean.”</p><p>            Tilting his head, Nixon’s brow furrowed. Lip’s eyes darted away, and he slowly kneaded his hands along his knees. “I can.”</p><p>            Lip’s tongue darted out, swiping along his lips before he scratched at the side of his head. “It’s just—” he took a deep, shuttering breath, “I haven’t heard him once. No thoughts, no feelings . . . nothing. I thought at the very least I would feel . . . anger. I thought it would just . . . take a while longer, that it was a slower process than I assumed it would be. But I’ve—well, it would be hard not to hear what Guarnere has to say, and Martin’s seems to be always pissed off. So, I just—is it—” Lip dipped his head, plucking at the loose fabric on the bed spread.</p><p>            Lip looked a little hurt at the idea that there was something wrong with him, that there was either something about his personality or he was just <em>broke</em> in some way. Nixon wished there was something that he could say that would make things better, and he searched desperately for something to say, but he came up empty handed.</p><p>            Finally, he rose to his feet, and sat down on the bed next to Lip. Gently, he nudged him with the shoulder. “Come on, Lip. There’s nothing wrong with you. You know what they say about angels—”</p><p>            Lip scowled furiously. “Oh, don’t you start. I know what they say about them, that they’re unintelligent and feral. But there was no indication of that in the aviary, and certainly not now. They may insist that about these angels all they want, may have everyone else convinced, but I know <em>you</em> aren’t, and I certainly am not either.”</p><p>            Oh, Lord. He wanted to tell him that he was right, but he wouldn’t break Dick’s trust like that. As far as he knew, Lip was an all right guy, and would act no differently towards Ron if he were to know the truth.</p><p>            Biting his own tongue until he tasted blood, Nixon forced himself to choke down the words until he knew it wouldn’t slip out. “Look, you’re right. I don’t believe that bullshit. So, then you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself if you can’t feel the connection, right? Gotta earn his trust before he’ll let you in. You saw how he was—sure, he protected the others, but he seemed itching for a fight. It’s going to take some time.”</p><p>            Lip pursed his lips, and sighed, scratching at his head. “How do I know that the connection is even there? For all I know, I could be inside my own head, and the thoughts are going nowhere.”</p><p>            Nixon shrugged. “Not going to know until you try.” There was a slight, defeated slump to Lip’s shoulders. “Just . . . I know its hard, especially with the army breathing down our necks to show results, but you gotta just wait it out.”</p><p>            “And if he goes wild during training and the army decides to put him down?”</p><p>            “They won’t. Not so soon. They’re assets to the army.”</p><p>            Lip scrubbed his hands over his face. “I just hope you’re right.”</p><p>            Nixon clasped a hand on his shoulder, and laughed. “Fuck, don’t count on that. I’m never right.” How the hell he had managed to last this long was beyond him. Sure, he did well, because it was very anti-Nixon to do anything half-heartedly, and he could be a good leader when it came down to it, but he and Sobel butted heads like no tomorrow, and it had been noted many times how his <em>drinking</em> could affect his ability to lead. How in the hell he became first lieutenant, Nixon will never know.</p><p>             Lip smiled weakly at him. “I suppose you’re right. I was pretty foolish for coming to you for aid, sir.”</p><p>            Nixon waved a hand and disregarded the <em>sir</em> comment. “Eh, it’s whatever. I understand where you’re coming from. Shit, I don’t know why my angel picked me. So, I get the self-doubts.”</p><p>            Nixon lit a cigarette, and took a long drag from it before he noticed that Lip was silently staring at him. He turned and looked at the sergeant. “What?”</p><p>            “He chose you?”</p><p>            Plucking the cig from his lips, Nixon licked them before he tapped the cig against the edge of the ashtray. “Well. I guess so. He approached me and all that.”</p><p>            Lip let out a disbelieving sound, causing Nixon to ask, “<em>What?</em>”</p><p>            Watching the sergeant as he shook his head, an amused smile spread across the other’s face. “Nothing, sir,” Lip finally said, sounding amused. At Nixon’s persistent look, Lip held up the palms of his hands. “It’s really nothing!”</p><p>            Nixon finally rolled his eyes, took a final drag of his cig, and put it out in the ashtray. Then, he patted Lip’s knee, and rose to his feet. “It’ll be okay, Lip.”</p><p>            “I sure hope so. Thank you for speaking to me, Nix.”</p><p>            He nodded to the sergeant before he quietly excused himself. The woman behind the counter gave him an odd look as he left, but he nodded to her nonetheless, slipping his Garrison cap back on once he got outside.</p><p>            As he headed back to the house he was staying in, he thought about the angel that Lip was bonded to. Dick had seemed to know the angel—which wasn’t surprising in the least, being stuck in an aviary like that—and seemed to be a little confused as to why Ron had allowed himself to be bonded. Nixon thought about asking him about it, but part of him wondered if that would be a step to far.</p><p>            He let out a sigh, and scratched at his cheek. The war should be the only thing on his mind right now.</p><p>            Nixon entered the house, and said goodnight to the family, before he headed up to where he was being quartered. The attic was small, and he had to keep himself bent at an awkward angle to head to his bed. As he took his boots off, he made a vow to himself that he wouldn’t think about Dick anymore than he needed too.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            A heavy sheen of sweat beaded along his forehead. He thought the Georgia sun was bad, but the vigorous training that they were put under in England was far worse, especially since none of them knew what the fuck they were doing. It was clear the angels weren’t too happy about this, either—many of them tugged at their collars and couldn’t remain still, which earned them a reprimand. Ron, angry-faced as ever, had glowered at the captain and flapped his wings at him when the captain had snapped at him. Surely it would have ended up in a fight, but either Lip thought something or the angel thought better of it, because they tucked down at his sides.</p><p>            Dick watched the captain with intense interest, though, and seemed to hang on his every word, even though none of the information was directed towards them. He was the only other angel besides Ron that wasn’t picking at his uniform, and seemed well adjusted to the olive drab.</p><p>            . . . Which, he looked increasingly good in—</p><p>            That thought crashed and burned immediately, his hands clenching into tight fists behind his back, flexing his fingers carefully before he loosened them. It was a sinful thought, and he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on it. God, what if that thought had gotten to Dick?</p><p>            <em>If what thought had gotten to me?</em></p><p>            A shiver ran up Nixon’s spine. Part of him hated that they could hear each other—another part was bitterly happy that he got to communicate with him without speaking. <em>Just how boring this shit is,</em> Nixon thought in turn, <em>but you seem to be enjoying yourself.</em></p><p>            <em>It’s fascinating</em>, Dick thought, and a feeling of wonder swelled up in Nixon, pressing against his tongue. It was a foreign feeling, and definitely not his own. <em>Although I’m not so sure how these strategies will work in practice. It’s still rather interesting</em>.</p><p>            <em>I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself</em>, Nixon replied, his eyes drifting towards the line of angels. While their uniforms were the same, they didn’t have any insignia showing their rank. Hell, privates got <em>some</em> sort of insignia. All the angels had was a small wing, and as far as he knew, it was just showing that they were property. There were no Airborne patches, nothing to show their affiliation with the 506. They were literally just property.</p><p>            <em>Is there a reason why they’re so strict with the way we’re acting? </em>Dick asked, and when Nixon glanced at him, his eyes never strayed from the captain.</p><p>            <em>It’s improper. The military has a specific way in which a soldier should act, especially in front of superiors.</em></p><p>            There was a slight twitch, and Nixon saw the beginning of a minute frown developing, before he quickly schooled his features when the captain turned their way. <em>Why should they care the way we act? To them we are simply feral creatures. </em></p><p>            Nixon wanted to shrug, but instead he sent an image of him doing it instead. <em>Not sure. They may want to see how well we can control you. Although, that’s easier said than done.</em></p><p>            Amusement flooded Nixon’s veins, and he forced himself to take a controlled, deep breath. <em>We’ll behave</em>, Dick thought. <em>I’ll make sure of it.</em></p><p>            Nixon pointedly glanced towards Ron. <em>Even him?</em></p><p>            <em>Believe it or not, he’s behaving right now</em>, came the amused response. Nixon almost let out a chuckle, and he froze as the captain turned his harsh green eyes onto him. “Something funny, Lieutenant?”</p><p>            “No, sir,” Nixon said after clearing his throat. Eyes were burrowing into him, and he wondered how many of the men were staring at him. He had been sure he had hidden the amusement, but he may have failed and only hid it internally. The captain grunted, eyeing him carefully, before he continued. Sobel sneered at him, and looked pleased with himself, although he perfectly schooled it when the captain looked to him.</p><p>            Nixon wanted to kick himself, and tried to hide his humiliation. Welsh bumped shoulders with him, but it wasn’t the same.</p><p>            <em>Nix?</em></p><p>            Ah, there was that nickname again. Most nicknames rubbed Nixon the right way, but this one seemed to calm his nerves, and relax him. He tried to tell himself it had certainly nothing to do with who gave it to him. <em>I’m fine, Dick.</em></p><p>            He could practically <em>see</em> the frown, but Dick didn’t respond, and it set his teeth on edge, feeling the slightest hint of Dick’s concern. Blessedly, Dick went silent, and slowly he felt the growing focus and curiosity as Dick settled back in to listening to the captain.</p><p>            The sun climbed the sky and began to dip into the horizon when they were finally dismissed, with a final word from the captain that the angels were to remain in their possession until they were deployed.</p><p>            Nixon looked towards Dick, who brightened and smiled upon realizing that the two of them were going to be spending more time together. Nixon wanted to smile back, but he could practically feel Sobel’s gaze on him, and he wasn’t going to give the man a reason to reprimand him. Nixon approached Dick, and nodded to him, before he adjusted the man’s collar, and pinned a small screaming eagle to his lapel. It was the best they could do for now, until the patches came in and they could sew Nixon’s last name above his breast.</p><p>            “Lieutenant Nixon.”</p><p>            Cursing under his breath, he smoothed Dick’s collar before he turned around. Captain Sobel looked extremely pleased with himself, although he was hiding it well. “Sir,” Nixon said, saluting briefly before he stood at attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dick do the same.</p><p>            Sobel arched an eyebrow. “You have this . . . angel trained quite well,” he said, almost sneering. His eyes raked over Dick’s body, and Nixon was very proud when Dick didn’t waver, although the angel’s eyes seemed to be nearly entranced on him, as if looking to him for guidance.</p><p>            <em>Just keep doing what you’re doing</em>, Nixon told him, <em>and we’ll be fine</em>.</p><p>            <em>What’s he doing?</em> Dick asked, as Sobel slowly moved around him. A shiver thrummed through the angel’s body as Sobel ran his fingers through his feathers. Oh, fuck, Nixon really hated him at this point. Anxiety and a sense of unease pumped through Nixon’s veins, and he tried to keep himself calm, as well as send over soothing emotions to the angel.</p><p>            <em>I don’t know, but stay calm</em>. Which, was easier said than done, Nixon realized, as Sobel forced Dick’s wing to extend, and fan out. He had no idea what Sobel was looking for, and he wasn’t sure he hadn’t seen him doing this sort of . . . investigation with anyone else.</p><p>            Sharp pain burst through Nixon’s back, and it took him a moment to realize he was feeling residual pain as Sobel forced Dick’s wing to bend in an awkward position. At the same moment, Dick let out a yelp and pried his wing out of Sobel’s grip. It didn’t take much for the long-legged angel to quickly step away from Sobel and stand by Nixon’s side.</p><p>            Sobel’s face twisted, and without thinking, Nixon said, “Sorry. I told him to step away. You were hurting his wing.”</p><p>            “I was performing a basic evaluation—”</p><p>            “And what did you discover, sir?” Nixon asked, voice level. “I’m sure you’re well aware, but all the angels had been thoroughly examined before they were brought here.” He wasn’t sure why Sobel let him get away with being snarky—it wouldn’t be hard to get him court-martialed.</p><p>            Sobel’s mouth drew into a thin line.</p><p>            “If you’re unsure of their health and fitness for this—”</p><p>            That caused him to scowl. “You’re dismissed, lieutenant,” he snapped, before he turned and strolled off. Lip was still hanging around, watching Sobel go before he turned towards Nixon and Dick. Once Nix nodded to him, Lip nodded back and walked away, Ron following lazily on his heels.</p><p>            Dick turned, stretching his wings out before folding them closed. <em>I’m sorry if I got you in trouble</em>.</p><p>            Oh, wasn’t that a funny thought? Dick getting <em>Nixon</em> in trouble. He let out a small chuckle, and clasped Dick on the shoulder. <em>Trust me, I’ve been getting in trouble with Sobel since Toccoa. I’ll be all right.</em></p><p>            Dick seemed unsure, but he stretched out a wing to rest gently against Nixon’s back, before he slowly tucked it away. Nixon waved the angel off, before they began to head back. They walked along in silence, Dick making sure to keep a couple paces behind. They came across a couple NCOs practicing with their angels, and Dick stopped a moment to watch the angels swoop through the air, catching items that were tossed up to them. It seemed like pointless task work to Nixon, but he felt a small tinge of jealousy come from Dick, before it was quietly smushed down.</p><p>            “Hi, Nix!” Shifty called, waving from where he was sat on a brick wall, Grant and Webster sitting next to him. Shifty’s eyes immediately went back to the sky, and winced when the angels collided with one another.</p><p>Webster was looking at Dick with interest, while Grant asked, “How was training, sir? Sobel looked like he was going to blow a gasket. I’m surprised he didn’t yell at them.” He nodded to the two NCOs—not of Easy Company, Nixon belatedly realized—who had practically run to their angels once they had collided.</p><p>            “I ain’t seen him that mad since Toccoa,” Grant continued, before he cocked his head back. “What’d you say to him, sir?”</p><p>            Nixon waved a hand. “Nothing that’s unusual. You know how he gets when it comes to me. I’m just surprised he hasn’t tried to court-martial me yet.” Dick tensed, his eyes flicking to Nixon and he felt concern come off of him in waves.</p><p>            Carefully, Nixon assured him it was no big deal. Which, it really wasn’t. Grant grinned at that, and Shifty ducked his head. “If he does try to court-martial you, sir, I’m not so sure what we’re gonna do.”</p><p>            “You’ll have Lieutenant Welsh,” Nixon replied, “You’ll survive.”</p><p>            “Welsh doesn’t have an angel,” Webster said, dryly, “And they’re pretty much pushing that anyone with an angel is a sign of God or something. That you’ll be the ones to get us through the war.”</p><p>            Now that caused Nixon to tense, his eyes slightly widening and his jaw clenching. He hadn’t heard anyone say that, and he wasn’t sure if it was during Sunday service that they were being told this, or some sort of reassurance that the brass had tried to feed them. Either way, it made Nixon <em>anxious</em>. His anxiety drowned out any emotions or thoughts Dick was trying to send, and he forced himself to count to five, before he replied, “Well. Even if Welsh doesn’t have one, you’ll still be all right. He’s a competent leader, and I have faith in him, as should all of you. Don’t focus on the angel nonsense.”</p><p>            Which, it really was nonsense. Yes, there were properties of angels that could be considered <em>magical</em>, but there were animals that they used every day that had properties that others didn’t. Saying that having an angel made them a better leader—that was all bullshit.</p><p>            Nixon thought to Lieutenant Compton, who would be joining them sometime before they jumped. He was unsure if Compton had been taken to the aviary or not, and considering he was the <em>only</em> commissioned officer in Easy with an angel—well, fucking fuck. He really didn’t need people looking to him for answers when he himself had none.</p><p>            Webster, Grant, and Shifty nodded, although Grant could tell that Nixon was thinking about something, and clearly uneasy. Nixon shook his head at Grant, and said goodbye, before he began to head to where he was staying.</p><p>            <em>Do you want to talk about it—</em></p><p><em>            Not now, and not like this</em>, Nixon told him, shaking himself and leveling Dick with a hard look. Dick looked embarrassed, ducking his head a bit but nodding nonetheless. He kept quiet; his emotions muddled as they walked. It wasn’t until after Nixon got them into the attic, away from their hosts, that he spoke, “Are you going to talk about this now, Nix?”</p><p>            Digging through his footlocker, he found his bottle of Vat and took a large gulp straight from the bottle. He could practically feel Dick’s disappointment, but he’d give the angel credit where credit was due—he made sure that Nixon didn’t feel any of it. “Can’t a man relax first?” Nixon shot back, before spotting Dick’s disapproving look. “What do you want me to say? You heard what Webster said. They’re talking about you guys as if you were brought to us by God, that you’re somehow going to lead us to victory through the sheer power of God alone.”</p><p>            “It doesn’t hurt for people to have faith in the Lord,” Dick replied, “While I agree that we were not sent by God himself, it doesn’t hurt for people to believe in some other worldly being.” Nixon couldn’t manage a reply, and he just dropped down onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. Carefully, Dick dropped down on the old bed next to him. “Some people need faith in a time like this. You say war is something I don’t understand, and you’re right—but your men understand war. Have seen war, have seen the after effects. Is it wrong for them to want to believe in that?”</p><p>            Nixon waved a hand. “It’s not wrong. But it’s wrong for them to believe that we’re going to get them through this just due to having a bond with you. Look, I don’t care if they believe in God, believe that he’s watching over them or whatever the fuck—but I hate the notion that I am somehow supposed to be wiser, because I have you by my side. Don’t get me wrong, I was the top of my class at OCS, but that has nothing to do with how I will be as a leader.”</p><p>            Dick’s brow furrowed. “You seem to think you will be alone in the decision making, Nix,” he said, laying down on the bed next to him. Nixon turned his head, staring deeply into those baby blues, and he found himself feeling . . . reassured. “I have been reading the training manuals. I could help you.”</p><p>            Stunned, Nixon blurted out, “How the hell did you get your hands on the training manuals?”</p><p>            Dick smiled at him, folding his hands and resting them over his stomach, before he turned and looked at the ceiling. “Ron is very good at picking the locks.” He didn’t seem shy about the fact, and there was a slight smile playing at his lips.</p><p>            Disbelieving, Nixon laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, tucking a hand behind his head. “I can’t believe you haven’t been caught yet.”</p><p>            “I assure you; everything is put back where we found it,” Dick rolled onto his side, his palm pressing against his cheek.</p><p>            Nixon chuckled, and said, “Just don’t get caught,” before they fell in silence. It was hard to believe that Dick had been much of his time studying field manuals. Nixon had hoped he would never see a field manual again, and here Dick was,<em> relishing</em> in the knowledge he had gained. No wonder during the night he was sometimes woken up with a strong feeling of curiosity, and wonder. That explained quite a lot.</p><p>            “You’re saying you want to help me, like . . . as a team?”</p><p>            Dick nodded. “Of course,” he said, stretching his wing out and covered Nixon. Nixon’s eyes fluttered close, and found himself relaxing against the bed. The feathers were soft, and the began to create a pocket of heat. God, during the winter months, angels truly were going to be a God send. “I would suggest tactics and situations to you, but it would be you who had to implement them. With me being able to maneuver through the air, I can get intel for you, and we can try to stay one step ahead.”</p><p>            “<em>Trying</em> and actually being one step ahead of the enemy are two completely different things.”</p><p>            “Well,” Dick said, reaching out and gently taking Nixon’s hand. It was strange, how Dick seemed to reach out for physical contact whenever they were alone. “It’s worth the effort, isn’t it? Besides, it’ll allow us to keep the men safe. Allow them to go home to their families.”</p><p>            Nix’s eyes fluttered closed, and he grasped Dick’s hand tightly. “I suppose you’re right.” Licking his lips, he added, “Try to get some sleep. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks until we jump.”</p><p>            Dick didn’t say anything, just remained quiet. When they woke up the next morning, they were wrapped around each other.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>             “—Lieutenant Meehan will be your new commanding officer of Easy,” Strayer’s voice rang out over where the men were gathered. Shocked, Nixon forced himself to hide his emotions, even as he felt Dick questioning what this all meant. He could tell all the men were going to ask him if he knew why Sobel had been removed from their command, but there wasn’t anything he could think of. Sure, the man had no bond with an angel, but as far as he knew, Lieutenant Meehan didn’t either. Once they were dismissed, Welsh flagged him down.</p><p>            “What the hell happened?” Welsh asked in a low voice, not even bothering to look at Dick. “Did you say anything to Sink about Sobel?”</p><p>            “Why the hell would I? For the most part, he’s left me alone.” Nixon’s eyes scanned the rest of Easy Company, and stopped when he spotted Lip and the other NCOs making their way towards him. Once they got close enough, Nixon hissed, “What did you do?”</p><p>            “We were gonna ask you the same thing, sir,” Lip said, all the NCOs saluting in unison before they went into an at-ease position.</p><p>            Lewis shook his head. “I don’t know what could have possibly caused for Captain Sobel to be replaced, but the brass knows what they’re doing.” His eyes swept over the group of men. “And I expect you all to treat Lieutenant Meehan with the respect he deserves.”</p><p>            The NCOs nodded, saluting once more before they rejoined the men. Welsh turned to Nixon. “Someone has to know <em>something</em>,” Welsh said, “Why the hell else would they replace him so close to our jump?”</p><p>            “I don’t know, Harry,” Nixon deeply inhaled, and ran a hand through his hair. “Either way, this saves our asses. No more Sobel, eh?”</p><p>            “Let’s just hope Lieutenant Meehan is better,” Welsh pointed out, and Nix got a sinking feeling in his gut.</p><p>            After they checked with the men, Nixon bid farewell to Welsh, and began to head home after he retrieved Dick. Dick walked close to him, his wing brushing against Nixon’s side. Once they entered the attic, Dick plopped down on the bed, his eyes following Nix as the man began to undress. “Do you know why Sobel could have been replaced?”</p><p>            “I probably have as much as an idea as you do,” Nixon replied, flinching a bit when he heard how harsh his voice sounded. Dick just pursed his lips in response, though, and seemed nonplussed by the harsh way in which he had been spoken too. “I would rather not talk about it. It’s done, it’s over with, Sobel’s gone. Good for us.”</p><p>            “I suppose so.” Dick watched him, slowly tilting his head. “Are you ready for this, Nix?”</p><p>            Nixon’s head snapped up, his eyes darting to Dick. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>            Dick licked his lips. “You’re First Lieutenant. If anyone were to happen to Lieutenant Meehan—”</p><p>            “I will face that when the time comes,” Nix responded, swiping the back of hand across his forehead. “Until then, I would rather not think about it.”</p><p>            Dick’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I can feel your anger and your tension—”</p><p>            “And I really wish you couldn’t,” Nixon snapped, “Because I really don’t want you talking to him right now about whatever the hell I’m feeling.”</p><p>            “Talking about your emotions can help—”</p><p>            “I don’t <em>want</em> to talk about it, Dick, and despite the fact you can feel whatever the hell’s going on in my head, that doesn’t always mean I want to discuss it.” Silence fell over the attic, and Nixon refused to look at Dick. His hands were shaking so bad as he stripped out of his undershirt and put on a new one. Overwhelming sadness came over him, and he felt like he was going to vomit. Slowly, Dick rose from the bed, and the floor creaked beneath his feet. “Dick, I didn’t mean—”</p><p>            “And we’ve established that I can feel that you did,” Dick responded, his voice cold. Nixon turned to look at Dick, and watched him go over to the small cot that his hosts had brought up once they realized Dick would be staying with them until the jump. The angel collapsed on the cot, his back to Nixon, and he quickly curled up in a ball.</p><p>            A gasp was ripped from Nix as his head went quiet. There was no quiet, pleasant hum of Dick’s presence in the back of his skull. His mind was . . . quiet.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            The jump had been postponed. The men grumbled at that, but other than that were quiet. Some were angrily chain-smoking while they watched the film, others looking completely dejected over it.</p><p>            Meanwhile, Nix was standing at the back of the theater, his head quiet. <em>I’m sorry</em>, he said, but the thought just echoed back.</p><p>            He knew he had been in the wrong, but this complete and utter silence? It was fucking terrifying. It had gotten to the point where he was used to the quiet hum. Looking around the tent, once he realized that no one seemed to be paying any sort of attention to him, he snuck out.</p><p>            Dipping between the tents, Nixon began to head towards where their equipment was held. While he wasn’t sure where they had put all the angels, he knew it wouldn’t be far. Or, at least he <em>hoped</em>.</p><p>            Slamming his back against a crate as a couple MPs walked past, Nix held his breath as he watched them disappear around the corner. Then, he slowly slunk around the front of each of the tents, peeking in. Disappointed, he moved on to the next one.</p><p>            Just when he was about to give up, two MPs stumbled out a tent, clearly flustered. “What a fucking bastard that angel is,” one of them groaned.</p><p>            “To be fair, you were tryin’ to yank a feather out.”</p><p>            “Look, I just wanted one t’ send back as a souvenir to my ma. Is that a crime?”</p><p>            The shorter of the two shook his head. “Nah, but you just had to pick the nastiest of the bunch,” he said, before dusting himself off. “Now, come on. We better move along.” The taller one grumbled, looking over his shoulder back at the tent, before he moved on.</p><p>            Nixon waited, holding in his breath, eyes darting towards each gap between tents, before he slowly moved his way forward, and dipped inside.</p><p>            Blinking, Nixon’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. It wasn’t completely dark—there were lanterns lit, barely illuminating the cages. Slowly, angels looked up, their eyes landing on Nix. He tensed a bit, and even though he knew that they were—for the most part—Easy angels, that definitely didn’t mean that they would be okay with him invading their space.</p><p>            Grabbing a lantern, he made down the aisle, peering into every cage. Some of the angels glared at him and flapped their wings, but others just gave him a once-over before they went back to sleep. Finally, towards the end, he heard a familiar voice, “<em>Nix</em>?”</p><p>            Relieved, Nixon headed towards the cage and knelt down. Dick was sitting with his back to the far end, his wings wrapped around him, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?” Dick asked, even though a hiss came from the next cage. Dick waved a hand off to the other angel, who Nix immediately recognized as Ron. “You’re not supposed to be here.”</p><p>            “We haven’t had a chance to talk since that spat,” Nix said, “And I can’t hear you anymore. It’s . . . well, it’s freaking me the hell out, and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”</p><p>            Dick crossed his arms. “I’ve heard.”</p><p>            Mouth open, Nix stopped, his eyes slowly going wide as he leaned back on his heels. “You’ve been able to hear me the whole time?”</p><p>            “Of course. I cut the link off so you couldn’t hear me. Not the other way around,” Dick jerked his gaze away. “I thought you didn’t want me in your head?”</p><p>            Blinking, Nix’s hands tightly wrapped around the bars as he leaned forward. “I <em>do</em>! Of course, I do. I mean, I wouldn’t have been apologizing if that’s what I wanted. Look, I—” He took a deep breath. “I <em>know</em> what I said, and I know I was being an asshole. But—people, sometimes, don’t always want to talk about stuff that’s bothering them.”</p><p>            “Well, that’s remarkably dumb.”</p><p>            “I know it may seem that way,” Nixon continued, and <em>finally</em> got Dick to look at him. “But for humans, its natural. We’re not in each other’s heads. Just—sometimes we need time to process information before we can do anything about it. I just wasn’t ready to talk about it.”</p><p>            “If you aren’t ready to talk about the possibility of leading Easy, then how will you be when we’re in combat?”</p><p>            “Talking about the future is different than talking about <em>now</em>. Lieutenant Meehan is my commanding officer. In combat, whatever we’ll be discussing will have an immediate impact on us and my men,” Nix explained. “I don’t want command of Easy, and I’m not going to worry myself over something that probably isn’t even going to happen.”</p><p>            Dick’s mouth twitched, and he looked away again. Nix sighed, pressing his forehead against the cold bars. “I know I was an asshole about the situation. But we’re so close to this jump, and we had a change in CO without any real reason as to why. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, but it wasn’t a real concern of mine at the moment. I’m sorry.”</p><p>            His head dipped, chin resting against his chest as he let out a small sigh. There was a scuffle, and the fluttering of wings, before he felt Dick’s hand on his knee. He looked up to see Dick inches from his face, and his chest filled with a warm, bubbly emotion. Choking on his breath, Dick’s presence slowly came back into his mind.</p><p>            His eyes were wet, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks as he was overflowed with emotion, and he found himself wiping at his eyes. When he looked towards the angel, he found him smiling awkwardly. “I suppose I should apologize,” Dick murmured, “I wasn’t . . . entirely understanding.”</p><p>            “Just promise if you’re ever angry at me again, you don’t shut me out,” Nixon practically begged, and Dick nodded. From the cage next to him, Ron snorted.</p><p>            Before Nix could ask Dick the instructions that had been given to them by Strayer, he heard someone enter the tent. <em>Shit</em>, echoed through the bond from both ends, and Nix wished Dick a <em>goodbye</em> before he abandoned the lantern, racing towards the back of the tent and crawling out between the gaps. As Nix snuck back to the theater, Dick’s voice rang through his head, <em>it was an MP. They weren’t happy to see that someone was here</em>.</p><p>            <em>You guys aren’t going to get in trouble, are you?</em></p><p>
  <em>            No. They think it was one of you.</em>
</p><p>Nix’s shoulders relaxed, and he slowed down to a leisurely stroll once he got in sight of the theater. <em>Glad to know you guys will be all right</em>. He entered the tent again, nodding to Welsh who just arched an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Amusement flitted through the bond, and Nix frowned. <em>What’s so funny?</em></p><p><em>The angels are just talking about the fact you apologized to me. That’s all</em>.</p><p>
  <em>What’s so funny about that?</em>
</p><p><em>Just the fact you’re a human. </em>He could practically see the small smile that would tug at the corner of Dick’s mouth. Nix’s eyes closed at the thought, and his chest felt warm. <em>It’s odd for people to apologize to us.</em></p><p><em>I’m sure the people they’re bond with have apologized to them</em>.</p><p><em>Not vocally . . . You’re quite a hit with Luz. He wanted to tell Guarnere about it, but we managed to convince him not too</em>.</p><p>Arching an eyebrow, Nix’s eyes searched the theater for Guarnere, spotting him just as the NCO rose from his seat, and angrily began to leave. Absentmindedly, Nixon asked, <em>His angel’s name is Luz?</em></p><p>
  <em>It’s actually George, but we all call him Luz. It’s the same thing with Martin’s angel, Liebgott. Some of them are just easier to refer to as last names. Although . . . Heffron now refuses to answer to anything besides ‘Babe’.</em>
</p><p>Nixon quietly snorted to himself, and rubbed at his sockets. Then, a spark of curiosity filled his veins, and Dick chirped, <em>Luz says Guarnere is upset</em>.</p><p>
  <em>He left the theater. He looked pretty pissed.</em>
</p><p>A pause. <em>No</em>, came Dick’s reply, then a slow, <em>no . . . he’s angry, yes, but he’s . . . sad, Luz says. But won’t say why.</em></p><p>Running a hand through his hair, Nix said, <em>I can’t get involved. Guarnere wouldn’t appreciate me coming to him like that.</em></p><p>
  <em>Luz says—</em>
</p><p><em>Tell Luz that he should probably just keep it to himself. Whatever he’s telling Luz, he probably wants it to be a secret</em>.</p><p>A pause. Briefly, Nix wondered if Dick was going to go silent on him again. His shoulders slumped when Dick replied, <em>duly noted</em>.</p><p>Whatever the hell Guarnere was pissed about, he didn’t need those flames to be stoked because his angel was unable to keep to himself.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            The entire jump was a mess. Nixon ended up in a lake, and nearly drowned beneath his waterlogged parachute. He was lucky he hadn’t lost his knife, or he would have been one of the many men to have perished that day.</p><p>            He knew Dick was all right at the very least. While they hadn’t communicated since they had been given their instructions, the faint hum in the back of his mind was always there, thankfully. He wasn’t sure where Dick was; all he had been given by Lieutenant Meehan was that the angels knew where they were supposed to be, and what they were supposed to do. Nixon was still in disbelief that this had gotten past the brass to begin with; really, they considered angels subhuman, but believed they had enough intelligence to understand their orders and know they will be killed if they weren’t to follow them? It really didn’t make sense to Nixon, but what was he supposed to do?</p><p>            Meanwhile, he hadn’t found any of his men. He found men from Fox and Able company, but had yet to come across a familiar face.</p><p>            His worries disappeared a bit when they reached the meetup point, and he spotted both Welsh and Compton. There were some other Easy men around, as well. Martin was pacing back and forth, looking quite concerned about something, while Roe was already getting to work, his angel by his side.</p><p>            “Has anyone seen Meehan?” Nixon asked, running a hand through his sweaty hair as he removed his helmet, ignoring the sounds of mortars in the distance.</p><p>            “No one has seen him or anyone from his stick,” Compton said, lighting a cigarette.</p><p>            <em>Shit</em>, Nixon thought, his heart racing.</p><p>            Welsh glanced at him, and patted his shoulder reassuringly. Nixon swallowed heavily, scrubbing his hand over his face. He caught a slight increase in fear from Dick. “Where are the other angels?” Nixon asked, eyes searching the field, relieved when he saw Luz slowly landing alongside Guarnere.</p><p>            “Not sure,” Welsh pursed his lips into a thin line, “Don’t you have contact with yours?”</p><p>            “It’s very muddled. He’s clearly focusing on whatever he’s doing.”</p><p>            A grim look crossed Compton’s face. “Let’s just hope they get here soon. Don’t really need the men distracted.” At that moment, Ron walked past them, carrying an M1 and a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, heading directly for Lip. Unceremoniously, Ron dropped the M1 in Lip’s lap, before he collapsed on the ground next to him, puffing on the cigarette. “. . . Where did he get that M1?”</p><p>            “We really don’t have time to find out,” Nixon said, shaking his head. “Welsh, come with me.”</p><p>            Mortars exploded in the distance as Nixon and Welsh headed to the CP. Tilting his head up towards the sky, Nixon felt a quick explosion of fear that was quickly stamped down from Dick. Wherever he was, he prayed he was okay.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>            Nixon slumped against a building, taking a deep breath as he slowly removed his helmet. The attack against the guns at Brècourt had been successful, especially after a couple of angels had shown up with extra ammunition and grenades. He had never been so grateful to see Dick in his life, either, as he and Ron had landed on the second gun, taking out the men inside before taking it out.</p><p>            A shadow fell over Nix, and he looked up at Dick, giving the man a small smile. Dick smiled back, awkwardly, and held out a canteen of water. It was odd, seeing Dick in a full uniform, and carrying a rifle they had stolen off of the Germans. He didn’t look like he was here for war; he still looked like he should be back in boot camp. Quickly glancing around, and realizing they were alone, Dick murmured, “Are you all right?”</p><p>            “I’m fine,” Nixon replied, taking a large gulp from the canteen. He scrunched up his face, and handed the canteen back. “I could really go for a strong drink right now.”</p><p>            Dick arched an eyebrow. “Sorry, but I don’t think drinking right now would help.” He tensed, feathers ruffling as a loud bang echoed through the night. Dick turned his head, and glided up the hill towards the Jeep, his outline illuminated as another bomb was dropped in the distance. Nixon watched him from his bent position for a bit, before he slowly made his way towards him.</p><p>            A deep sadness swept over Nixon, nearly taking his breath away. Nixon stumbled into the Jeep, inhaling sharply. Once he recovered and managed to suppress it, he straightened, gently placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “You okay?”</p><p>            Dick didn’t look at him, just continued to watch the burning. “An angel died today,” Dick murmured, “When I found that map. He belonged to one of the men in Able Company.” Dick slowly rubbed at his eyes. “He shouldn’t have died.”</p><p>            Nixon squeezed his shoulder. “There are a lot of good men who shouldn’t have died,” Nixon murmured. The sadness grew deeper, and he could practically feel all the thoughts swimming through Dick’s head.</p><p>            Slowly, the angel tilted his head back. “I understand that a lot of people are going to die,” he said, quietly, “Even angels that I have known for years. But I—” He watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Slowly, his eyes closed, and he let out a loud sigh. “I think about the fact that some of them won’t get to see their family again. Or get even know what happened to their families.”</p><p>            A vice wrapped around Nixon’s heart and <em>squeezed</em>. He knew that most if not all of the angels had been captured and brought to aviaries like the one Dick was in. His parents could be dead for all he knew, or trapped inside another aviary; heaven forbid he had a brother. Dick turned, and Nix was shocked to see his eyes were tearless. “I know I made my decision,” Dick murmured, “And that this doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But sometimes I think about my family, where they could possibly be now, and I—”</p><p>            Dick tensed a bit as Nix gently put a hand on the back of his neck, tugging him against his body, wrapping his other arm around his waist. Dick melted in his arms a few seconds later, as Nix held him tight against him. Hands fisting into the back of Nix’s uniform, Dick buried his face into his shoulder. Relief flooded across the bond from Dick, while Nix could only send comforting waves in turn.</p><p>            The arm around Dick’s waist slowly travelled up his back, before his hand rested in the space between Dick’s wings. Nix’s eyes feel shut, ignoring the sounds of mortars going off. “We’ll get you back there. I promise. No matter what it takes.”</p><p>            Dick’s grip tightened on his uniform, before it slowly relaxed and they pulled away. He could feel the angel’s hot breath on his face, and Nix’s breath hitched as a hand cupped his face. Logically, he knew they were the only two around for a couple miles. Hopefully, too, it was too dark.</p><p>            “Thank you, Lew.”</p><p>            Flustered, he mumbled, “Don’t mention it,” and attempted to ignore the stroking thumb against his cheek. His eyes darted down to Dick’s lips, and a dark thrum of desire echoed through his chest from the angel.</p><p>            It was too tempting. Way too tempting—</p><p>            A moan escaped him, a gasp escaping Dick, and suddenly the hand disappeared from his cheek, the angel’s hands burying within Nixon’s hair, fisting and tugging at them. Dick arched his back and shuddered as Nixon ran a hand through the feathers.</p><p>            He knew it was a bad idea to romantically involve himself with Dick. It could only end up badly, especially in a war. But when they pulled away from each other, Dick’s eyes half-lidded, his plush mouth half-open as he gasped for air, Nixon knew he would go through hell or highwater to make sure they both got home safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi so i know this can be REALLY confusing because i really just wanted to write this for myself because the idea was bugging me BUT</p><p>angels, besides from what i described in the text, have for the most part lived away from humans. they can trill and speak to each other like people would consider 'birds' too, and because they were able to get away from humans for so long, they didn't bother speaking to them, when they could just fly away. bonding is something they can do with one another, and it was unknown if it could be done to humans. angels don't care about gender or anything like that. although over the years, angels have adopted 'human' names.</p><p>they are being used by the us army in the story for multiple reasons; they're considered blood bags and extremely loyal to their 'handler', even though the reason why they listen is either so they can stay alive, or because they trust the person they're bonded too. because of additional properties of their wings and blood, they think they're valuable to have. due to the fact they can fly to high altitudes and then drop like a rock, they're believed to be good for intelligence. since they become more than just a speck in the sky, they believe there's hardly any risk of them dying when gathering intelligence. and of course their healing properties make them great for medics.</p><p>they didn't really intend for angels to be able to defend themselves aside from dive bombs, but due to it being war, if they could STEAL a gun or ammunition or supplies from the enemy, they didn't care if they got a gun. they considered it extra bodies to carry stuff that was important for the soldiers. which is why dick has a carbine, and no one was stopping ron to get his gun. </p><p>i might write more for this series. i really like too, but idk. i guess send me a message on tumblr and let me know?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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